


Tranquility

by fizzygingr



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clones, Gen, Jedi ideology, Mild Blood, Non-Graphic Violence, OCs are easier because they're always in character, Padawan, clone existentialism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 14:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10439682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzygingr/pseuds/fizzygingr
Summary: In her first battle, a terrified Padawan wonders if this war is worth fighting.





	

_Tranquility, Breesa. A Jedi does not mourn. A Jedi accepts and moves forward._ It was her master’s favorite thing to tell her in any given situation: when her muscles were sore from a day’s training, when the rain ruined her plans to take a walk outside, when she’d gotten into a spat with a friend at the Temple. And Breesa had learned very well to take things in stride. It was, after all, the way she’d been raised, from shortly after her birth until today, her first battle, at not quite fifteen years old.

But suddenly, as she stumbled through the snow and ducked behind a rock for cover, everything seemed so much, so much, all at once. One boot had loosened and was filling up with snow, and the pain in her toes was unbearable. Blood had gotten into her braid, and it had slapped against her face and neck when she ran, streaking her with red. It had gotten in her mouth. She felt sick, and she felt hungry. Blaster fire was over her head, in her ears, lights and sounds and it was too much, too much.

And Whistle was dead.

Whistle, who had been the first clone to speak to her on the flight over. Who’d walked right up and clapped her on the back and said, “Welcome to the fight, kiddo.” She’d been fighting side-by-side with him, using her lightsaber to deflect the blasts, but she’d missed one - _how?_  - and it had caught him right in the neck. And now he was dead.

_A Jedi does not mourn. A Jedi fights_. But now her muscles were weak, and the hilt of her lightsaber was slippery, and she fumbled for it with numb fingers before throwing it to the ground and letting out a hoarse cry.

And then someone was beside her, someone placed the lightsaber back in her hand and curled her fingers around it. “You’re gonna need this, kid.”

She looked up, embarrassed now to show her tears. It was another clone, one she’d seen but didn’t know by name. He kneeled in the snow next to her. “Breesa, right?”

She nodded.

“Bullseye.”

She nodded again, willing herself to say “Nice to meet you,” (but today was not _nice_ ), or to say anything at all. She opened her mouth, and then closed it.

“Listen,” said Bullseye. “I saw you back there with Whistle. He was a good man.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry you had to watch that.”

And now Breesa could speak. “I was supposed to protect him.”

To her surprise, Bullseye removed his helmet. His face underneath was grim. “You can’t think that way,” he said. “You did what you could, now you keep fighting-”

“A Jedi does not mourn. I know.”

“Doesn’t mourn?” Bullseye wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Now, I don’t know about the Jedi,” he said, “but I sure as hell mourn.” He twitched his lip in a humorless smile. “I’ve even gotten pretty good at it.”

Breesa wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. “But you keep fighting,” she said. “How?”

"Every soldier finds his reason," he replied. "And if you don't have a reason, you make one."

"What's yours?"

He pulled a blaster from his side and held it reverently in both hands. “See this?” he said, “Belonged to a brother of mine, Knockout. He went down in the jungle on Delmarra. Last thing he said to me, he gave me his blaster and he said, ‘Make me the last one, brother. Make me the last one.'"

It was Breesa’s turn to be puzzled. “I’m not sure I understand,” she said.

“I fight _because_ I mourn, little one. I fight because my friends are dead and my toes are numb and the only chance I've got of making it all stop is if I blast every droid out there to scrap."

“So we fight the war to end the war?”

“Exactly.”

She nodded, wiping snot on the sleeve of her coat. _Good enough for me._ The snow stung her face, Whistle’s blood was freezing on her lips, and everything hurt like hell. With a deep breath, she willed herself to make it fuel for the fire.

“ _A Jedi mourns_ ,” she whispered shakily, “ _and so a Jedi fights_.”

Bullseye held out his hand. She took it and pulled herself up.

 


End file.
